IN THE FALL --- "The old man and his dog"
In early fall, the days can be warm as summer, the leaves bristling in the breeze and shades of green turning to gold or crimson. The smell is somehow different than summer, as the squirrels harvest the nuts that have fallen from the oaks.
It was such a day the old man recalled as he contentedly watched the deer browse, the birds gathering seeds while he was content to loaf and just take it all in. Oh, what a day! Until, he heard this voice that was not unfamiliar say” you know the view would be better if the buckthorn were not there”. And, of course she was right as wives tend to be. He peeked through the buckthorn at the wetlands beyond, untouched by humans and the home of the deer, fox, groundhog and many rabbits. He wondered what life was all about for these animals beyond the buckthorn. There were marsh marigolds, blue wildflowers, a large tamarack tree, tall grasses and sumac. There were smells that were different from the backyard. There were large hawks, owls, and numerous other birds and creatures that called this wetland home. It would be nice to visit this area as a view or even better as a passage though it to the woods on the other side. All of this being natural and untouched should be enjoyed by all he thought.
Since, wives seem to be right about these things it was not long before the days of the buckthorn would come to an end. Yes, the old man in this story in tattered blue-jeans would find himself enjoying his view with a chainsaw in hand. The buckthorn would be no match for the old man trying to stay in the good grace of his chosen companion.
It was unseasonably hot as the hundreds of buckthorn fell to the ground, wounding the old man with their thorns. He was covered with sweat, sap, dirt, dripping blood, and stains from the many sodas to quench his thirst. But, after several days the swath of thorns, twenty feet thick and over seventy feet long, were reduced to piles of limbs and leaves too high to see over or through. The old man pondered over this plight and another soda. Too many to haul away or burn easily he thought, and he decided that the piles should be reduced to woodchips.
The buckthorn now cleared , opened up a new wonder for those beautiful fall days. You could see the tall grasses swaying in the breeze, the deer foraging used them for cover as they approached a new vista for them --- Hosta's. The view was impaired where the buckthorn had been removed. Taking out the stumps and massive root structures would solve the problem but the old man thought, why not just cover it with black dirt and make a garden. Soon, the fall days grew shorter and then colder but day after day the old man, his wheelbarrow and his faithful dog “Bouncer” would be seen making trip after trip, until the many truckloads were put in place one wheelbarrow load at a time. The faithful companion made every trip even though he could hardly hear or see and arthritis and cancer were taking its toll. He seemed to know this was a special place also, and used his sense of smell to explore. He thought he could catch the deer but they would humor him knowing he had a better chance of catching his tail.
It would be spring before the garden, now many gardens would be finished. The old man looked out over the gardens and wetlands and it was wonderful. The birds were chirping, the smell of spring, flowers emerging, his faithful companion at his side. Oh, what a day! Now, without the presence of his wife, he thought, a pond would surely make the view better. And, if we’re going to have a pond shouldn’t there be a stream?
Soon, the old man was reading books and digging holes for a pond, a stream, and of course waterfalls. His companion “Bouncer” doesn’t have the bounce he was named for now, but he supervised well, even though it seems he was on break most of the time and occasionally got caught napping. Oh, what a day! Soon the pond and stream were done and one could observe the birds standing in line to take a bath and sometimes impatiently all at once. The fish in the pond did not seem to disturb them, and even “Bouncer” seemed content to let them enjoy the day or perhaps it was too hard to get up. And, if he could talk he would probably tell you that the old man was on break too. Only until two bucks came through the garden. It was not clear who was more startled the deer or the old man as they both jerked as they had been unaware of the others presence. Bouncer rolled over and decided the deer should not disturb his nap.
The woodchips from the buckthorn soon became paths throughout the many gardens. As the woodchips worked so well making paths it soon became clear that another twenty truckloads or more would be distributed by the old man and “Bouncer” who continued to make every trip. The paths would lead through the wetlands and finally reach the campground. I mean isn’t it obvious that one would make a campground at the end of the trail. Really, it was just a few truckloads of dirt, remove some more buckthorns, plant some grass, add a fire ring, run out a water line five hundred feet, buy a tent, and invite the old man’s grandkids for S’ mores and their first ever camp-out. Oh, what a day!
The grandkid’s each have their own trail named after them, have painted their own trail sign, and enjoy charades while camping at Kamp Akaycia. Bouncer finished his job here and is now making new trails. The old man is either sitting by the stream, or listening to the birds at the campground. Oh, what a day! IN THE FALL.
In early fall, the days can be warm as summer, the leaves bristling in the breeze and shades of green turning to gold or crimson. The smell is somehow different than summer, as the squirrels harvest the nuts that have fallen from the oaks.
It was such a day the old man recalled as he contentedly watched the deer browse, the birds gathering seeds while he was content to loaf and just take it all in. Oh, what a day! Until, he heard this voice that was not unfamiliar say” you know the view would be better if the buckthorn were not there”. And, of course she was right as wives tend to be. He peeked through the buckthorn at the wetlands beyond, untouched by humans and the home of the deer, fox, groundhog and many rabbits. He wondered what life was all about for these animals beyond the buckthorn. There were marsh marigolds, blue wildflowers, a large tamarack tree, tall grasses and sumac. There were smells that were different from the backyard. There were large hawks, owls, and numerous other birds and creatures that called this wetland home. It would be nice to visit this area as a view or even better as a passage though it to the woods on the other side. All of this being natural and untouched should be enjoyed by all he thought.
Since, wives seem to be right about these things it was not long before the days of the buckthorn would come to an end. Yes, the old man in this story in tattered blue-jeans would find himself enjoying his view with a chainsaw in hand. The buckthorn would be no match for the old man trying to stay in the good grace of his chosen companion.
It was unseasonably hot as the hundreds of buckthorn fell to the ground, wounding the old man with their thorns. He was covered with sweat, sap, dirt, dripping blood, and stains from the many sodas to quench his thirst. But, after several days the swath of thorns, twenty feet thick and over seventy feet long, were reduced to piles of limbs and leaves too high to see over or through. The old man pondered over this plight and another soda. Too many to haul away or burn easily he thought, and he decided that the piles should be reduced to woodchips.
The buckthorn now cleared , opened up a new wonder for those beautiful fall days. You could see the tall grasses swaying in the breeze, the deer foraging used them for cover as they approached a new vista for them --- Hosta's. The view was impaired where the buckthorn had been removed. Taking out the stumps and massive root structures would solve the problem but the old man thought, why not just cover it with black dirt and make a garden. Soon, the fall days grew shorter and then colder but day after day the old man, his wheelbarrow and his faithful dog “Bouncer” would be seen making trip after trip, until the many truckloads were put in place one wheelbarrow load at a time. The faithful companion made every trip even though he could hardly hear or see and arthritis and cancer were taking its toll. He seemed to know this was a special place also, and used his sense of smell to explore. He thought he could catch the deer but they would humor him knowing he had a better chance of catching his tail.
It would be spring before the garden, now many gardens would be finished. The old man looked out over the gardens and wetlands and it was wonderful. The birds were chirping, the smell of spring, flowers emerging, his faithful companion at his side. Oh, what a day! Now, without the presence of his wife, he thought, a pond would surely make the view better. And, if we’re going to have a pond shouldn’t there be a stream?
Soon, the old man was reading books and digging holes for a pond, a stream, and of course waterfalls. His companion “Bouncer” doesn’t have the bounce he was named for now, but he supervised well, even though it seems he was on break most of the time and occasionally got caught napping. Oh, what a day! Soon the pond and stream were done and one could observe the birds standing in line to take a bath and sometimes impatiently all at once. The fish in the pond did not seem to disturb them, and even “Bouncer” seemed content to let them enjoy the day or perhaps it was too hard to get up. And, if he could talk he would probably tell you that the old man was on break too. Only until two bucks came through the garden. It was not clear who was more startled the deer or the old man as they both jerked as they had been unaware of the others presence. Bouncer rolled over and decided the deer should not disturb his nap.
The woodchips from the buckthorn soon became paths throughout the many gardens. As the woodchips worked so well making paths it soon became clear that another twenty truckloads or more would be distributed by the old man and “Bouncer” who continued to make every trip. The paths would lead through the wetlands and finally reach the campground. I mean isn’t it obvious that one would make a campground at the end of the trail. Really, it was just a few truckloads of dirt, remove some more buckthorns, plant some grass, add a fire ring, run out a water line five hundred feet, buy a tent, and invite the old man’s grandkids for S’ mores and their first ever camp-out. Oh, what a day!
The grandkid’s each have their own trail named after them, have painted their own trail sign, and enjoy charades while camping at Kamp Akaycia. Bouncer finished his job here and is now making new trails. The old man is either sitting by the stream, or listening to the birds at the campground. Oh, what a day! IN THE FALL.
